How Far Would You Go?
by Aidenk77
Summary: How far would you go for love?      Would you betray your friends?      How far could you go?  Lies?  Dark Magic?  Murder?        This is a story of the dark side of love.
1. Chapter 1: Motives and Plans

Motives and Plans

Harry was sitting at his mahogany writing desk in the drawing room of Grimmauld Place. He frowned and then scowled at the parchment lying there. It was another letter from Ginny, this time practically begging him to meet her for lunch. He screwed up the parchment and tossed it into the fireplace where it burnt with a cheerful crackle.

Harry leaned back in his chair, and lit a cigarette. He'd had fun with Ginny but he'd quickly grown tired of her, always jealous, always needy. Admittedly she was pretty, gorgeous even, but that quick and fiery temper detracted from that. They had together almost straight after she'd finished her last year at Hogwarts and moved into Grimmauld Place that summer. By the autumn, Harry was frustrated with Ginny. They hardly went out and Harry found he couldn't as much as glance at another witch without Ginny flying off the handle.

Therefore, after another in a series of blazing rows, Ginny stormed out and disapparated on the front step. She didn't come back.

Harry snorted and extinguished the cigarette. He had a desire for someone else. He'd liked her for years, as long he could remember; they'd been friends for so long. They'd spent almost the entire time at Hogwarts together, spent many long, cold and lonely nights together. They'd held hands, fallen asleep together and she'd ended up with his so-called best friend.

She was in his mind most of the time. The pale skin, long loose curled hair, those curves. Harry stood and shook his head. He reached inside his jacket pocket and smoothed out a letter he'd received a few days ago.

_Harry,_

_Are you alright? We haven't seen you for weeks. Come to our house for dinner on Friday. We miss you._

_Love,_

_Hermione._

Harry allowed himself a thin smile. 'We'. He grimaced. He straightened his tie, grabbed his wand and walked down to the kitchen.

"Kreacher!" said Harry

The old elf sidled into the large kitchen and bowed.

"Yes Master?" he croaked.

"Do we have any wine? I'm going to Hermione's for dinner."

"Yes Master."

Kreacher ducked into a low dresser and after a moments ferreting around, produced a bottle.

"Romanée Conti," croaked Kreacher. "One of the finest."

"Thank you, Kreacher. That will be all for today."

Kreacher again bowed low, and disappeared from the room. Harry made his way to the front door and paused on the front step. He gripped the wine, took a breath and with a small pop, disapparated.

Harry arrived in Hermione and Ron's back garden. He gently swished his wand and produced a bloom of dark red roses. He caught them and tapped on the back door with his wand. A beautiful face came to the door and opened it; Harry paused for a second whilst her wonderful and seductive scent caught his nostrils.

"Hey Hermione," said Harry. "These are for you," he smiled as he handed over the flowers and wine.

"Thank you, Harry, they're beautiful!"

Hermione stood on tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. Harry squeezed her around her slim waist and she invited him into the house. Ron was sat at the kitchen table and grinned at Harry.

"Long time, no see," said Ron.

"I've been busy," said Harry. "Been redecorating Grimmauld Place, and just trying to brighten the place up. There's even a garden out the back, so I had a chap from Wilkins Magical Garden Supplies come over and try to tidy it up a bit.

"Well, I hope you're hungry. I've been working like a house-elf all afternoon."

Hermione frowned and Harry felt his sprits rise a little. They sat down to eat in the small kitchen; Ron opened the wine and poured glasses for the three of them. Hermione read the label on the bottle as she turned to Harry.

"Do you know how much this wine costs per bottle, Harry?" she asked.

Harry shrugged. "Not sure, I know it's not cheap, but only the best for my closest friends."

Ron was looking at Harry with narrowed eyes.

"It's nearly 140 Galleons per bottle," she said.

"It's nothing," said Harry, waving his hands airily.

Ron turned his eyes back to his plate and resumed shovelling. Inside Harry's head, the little voice was talking to him, almost in a series of bullet points.

_So, they still have money troubles._

_You're rich, Harry._

_You can help her. Give her what she deserves._

_Ron doesn't deserve her. You do. Turn on the charm._

Harry smiled at Hermione, looked at Ron, still shovelling and raised his eyebrows. She laughed and Harry winked at her. He felt his spirits soar. It wouldn't be difficult. She would see how much better he was than Ron and come to him.

Harry had barely touched his food; instead, he was pushing it around his plate. He'd noticed Hermione was doing the same. He had had two glasses of wine and yes, it was nothing short of wonderful. The bottle was nearly empty and a plan began to form in his mind. Harry gripped his wand, closed his eyes and concentrated. There was a small pop and a large bottle of whisky appeared on the table.

"Hey, how'd you do that?" asked Ron thickly.

"It's easy. Its like 'accio' but you need a bit more power, you need to know where it's coming from. This fine Highland malt is from my drinks cabinet in Grimmauld Place," said Harry.

Ron looked impressed, but Harry knew Hermione could do that, it was her who'd taught him how. Harry flicked his wand, three glasses appeared on the table, and the bottle poured itself.

"Cheers!" said Hermione.

They each sipped the malt and the three moved out into the garden to enjoy the late evening sunshine. Ron seemed to brighten up as the whisky was consumed and before too long the trio were laughing and joking, reminiscing of times past. The bottle was finished quite quickly, this time Hermione swished her wand and produced a bottle from their drinks cabinet. The drink was going down very well and Harry found was enjoying himself for the first time in months. Ron tottered around the garden before slumping down at the base of a large tree, muttering to himself. He leaned forward and fell silent, a few moments later he was emitting gentle snores. Harry and Hermione both laughed, the little voice in Harry's head spoke again.

"_Part one, complete."_

Harry set down his drink, picked up Ron's wand and pointed it at him.

"_Mobilicorpus,"_ thought Harry and he flicked the wand.

Ron stood up, still unconscious, and Harry tossed his wand over. The wand settled above his head and he was moved into the house as if a puppet on strings.

Harry leaned back against the tree and watched Ron's progress into their cottage. "I'd forgotten how just how odd that spell looks," giggled Hermione.

Harry sat against the tree with the drink in his hand, and motioned for Hermione to sit next to him. She did, and Harry put an arm around her shoulders. He lit a cigarette and blew a stream of blue smoke towards the house.

"I've missed you, Hermione. I really enjoy spending time with you."

Hermione took the fag from Harry and took a deep inhale. "Aw, thanks Harry. I've missed you too," she said, blowing out the smoke.

Harry gently ran his fingers through Hermione's long wavy hair, and breathed in her intoxicating scent. She didn't seem to mind so he softly moved to kiss her.

"Harry..." murmured Hermione. "I'm with Ron... this isn't appropriate."

Harry immediately stopped and flushed. "I'm sorry Hermione... I'd better go."

"You don't have to go, Harry," whispered Hermione. "But you can't try and kiss me. I'd never betray Ron like that and neither should you."

The little voice was in full flow inside Harry's head.

_Shit, shit, shit._

_Ok, deep breath. You can do this. You just have to be a bit clever. I'm guessing getting drunk is not the answer. Think, Harry, Think._

"I'm sorry Hermione. I'd better go," said Harry. "I'll come over in the week."

"Alright, Harry," said Hermione. "See you soon."

Hermione stood and kissed Harry on the cheek. Her beauty and her scent was driving him crazy, but he resisted and turned on the spot and disapparated with a small pop.

He arrived on the top step of Grimmauld Place and tapped his wand on the door. It opened silently and Harry slowly made his way up to the sitting room. He slumped into his armchair and considered the evening. Evidently, there were a few cracks in Hermione and Ron's relationship. How to open those cracks up? It wouldn't be easy, but he could do it.

He desired Hermione more than anything. She was so warm, kind and gorgeous. Ron wouldn't prove to be much of an obstacle and Harry Potter would be with the 'Brightest Witch of Her Age'. Harry thought on this. Appealing to Hermione should be the first thing to do. He would be nothing but helpful, responsible, patient and kind.

Harry fell asleep in the armchair and didn't stir even when Kreacher wrapped a blanket around his shoulders.

**A/N: **I really hope you've enjoyed this. I've used the exchange rate of 1 galleon = £5 or $8 USD.


	2. Chapter 2: Planting The Seeds

Planting the Seeds. 

A few weeks passed, and Harry had started to put his few simple plans into motion. He'd met Hermione for lunch a few times, and each time produced a bouquet of red roses, and paid for the lunch. Harry enjoyed doing this; he knew that Hermione mostly brought in a packed lunch. There was a downside though, the soaring sensation he experienced when they were out together was always quickly crushed when she had to leave. Harry found it hard when she talked of Ron, but again his heart soared when she talked of his minor faults. Nevertheless Harry continued to be friendly, warm and considerate, and it seemed to be working. Hermione had confided in him several times, telling him that Ron sometimes got a little aggressive when drinking.

Hermione's birthday was coming up in a few weeks, so Harry decided to take a little action. He grabbed a piece of parchment, and scribbled a note to Ron.

_Ron,_

_Do you fancy going out for a drink tonight?_

_Harry_

Harry attached the note to his owl, and the graceful bird soared from the open window. Plans formed in Harry's mind. Get Ron drunk, persuade him to go to a strip club, and then take him home to Hermione. It was time to start opening those cracks.

Pigwidgeon zoomed though the window, and Harry quickly untied the note.

_Harry,_

_I'd love to. Leaky at 7pm?_

_Ron_

Harry grinned. This was going to be good.

A few hours later Harry disapparated from the front step of Grimmauld Place, and arrived in a quiet alleyway next to the Leaky Cauldron. He stepped into the pub and was greeted almost immediately by Ron. They sat a table and Tom the barman brought over a couple of beers.

"Thanks, Tom," said Harry, as he reached for his wallet.

"No charge, no charge," exclaimed Tom. "Not for Harry Potter!"

Ron slightly narrowed his eyes, just for a split second, but Harry noticed.

"_Yes, yes, yes," _said the little voice in Harry's head.

Harry ignored Ron's eye narrowing, and engaged him in conversation. Ron wasn't doing too well at work, and Hermione had been nagging him. Harry listened as they supped their beers, and Harry consoled him. The evening was going very well, Tom kept the beers coming, and kept refusing Harry or Ron's money. Before too long they were both howling with laughter over a long forgotten joke, when Harry decided to move the plans forward a little.

"You wanna get out of here?" asked Harry.

"Sure," said Ron, slurring slightly. "Where to?"

"I know a place," said Harry. "It's really good there."

They stepped outside of the pub, after thanking Tom. Harry gripped Ron's wrist, and they disapparated. They appeared in a dank alleyway, and walked out on to the street. A large pink neon sign above them proclaimed "Girls, Girls, Girls". Ron's face split into a wide grin, as he practically bounded into the club.

"_Good, good," _said the little voice.

Harry walked up to the bar, and ordered a beer. Ron was already chatting to one of the lap dancers, and Harry smiled. He picked up a flyer from the bar, and asked for a pen from the barman. He scribbled "Michelle" on the flyer, and made up a London phone number, and slipped it into his pocket. Harry glanced over to Ron, who was now receiving his lap dance. He made his way over to the toilets, and once inside a stall, Harry swished his wand, and a small vial of perfume popped into his hand. He smiled again, and slipped the perfume into his pocket.

Harry went back to the bar, where Ron was waiting for him. They chatted and drank five or six more beers, by this point Ron was staggering and slurring.

"I'd better get you back, Ron," said Harry.

"Mione's going... to be... ngry," slurred Ron.

"_You have no idea," _thought Harry. "It'll be fine, Ron. Don't worry."

Harry guided Ron to the dank alleyway, supporting him as he tottered. He stopped, and slowly slipped his wand out of his pocket. He looked at Ron, and concentrated. Ron would soon forget that Harry had accompanied him to the strip club.

Harry pointed his wand between Ron's eyes. "Obliviate!" he said.

Ron's eyes went blank for a second, and Harry slipped the flyer into Ron's pocket, and splashed the perfume on him. He gripped his wand, and apparated into Hermione and Ron's garden, before tuning on the spot himself, and arriving at Grimmauld Place. The memory charm wasn't especially difficult to pull off; Ron would just have conveniently forgotten that Harry had taken him to the strip club.

Harry climbed the staircase, up to the second floor and into the bathroom. He flicked his wand at the shower, and stepped into the warm water. He washed himself down, and dried himself and pulled on his pyjamas and dressing gown. He slowly walked down the stairs into the sitting room, and settled into his armchair. If he'd planned things properly, he'd be expecting a visitor soon. He wondered who it might be.

There was a sharp knock on the door, and he heard someone coming up the stairs. Harry took a deep breath, and flicked his wand at the sitting room door. Kreacher led Hermione into the room. Harry's heart pulsed and his spirits soared.

"Madam Granger, Master," croaked Kreacher.

"Hermione!" cried Harry. "Are you... alright?"

Hermione's eyes were red and puffy, and she was in her pyjamas, dressing gown and slippers. Her voice was low, and hoarse.

"It's Ron," she paused. "He came back, drunk and stinking of perfume, with some _bitches'_ phone number in his pocket. He'd been to a _fucking _strip club! We had an awful row and I walked out. I didn't know where else to go..."

"Oh, Hermione." Harry stood and pulled Hermione into a tight embrace. "The spare room is made up, if you like. I'm always here for you, you know that."

Harry breathed in her seductive scent, and it was all he could do not to try and kiss her again. He resisted, and sat her down on the sofa.

"Kreacher!" called Harry. "Coffee, for Madam Granger and I."

"Yes, Master" muttered Kreacher.

"Thank you, Harry. You're so good to me."

Kreacher shortly brought up coffee, and Hermione calmed a little. Harry studied her carefully. Even with red eyes, and in her dressing gown, he found her enchantingly beautiful. He steadied his breathing and spoke.

"I didn't know where he went after I left. We'd just had a quiet drink in the Leaky, and I noticed the time, and said I'd better go. I didn't expect him to go off to another bar."

"I guess we'll talk things over in the morning, Harry," she said. "I'd better go up and try and get some sleep."

Harry nodded, and showed her to the spare room on the third floor.

"If you need anything, Hermione, just shout for me or Kreacher. You know where my room is."

"Thanks again, Harry," she reached up and kissed him on the cheek. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Goodnight," he whispered.

Harry went down a flight of stairs and entered his bedroom. He hung his gown on a hook on the door, and climbed into bed. He settled down, but could hear faint crying from the room above him. Harry sighed. He regretted hurting Hermione, but it needed to be done. He turned over, and slowly fell asleep.

Harry awoke a few hours later and checked the pocket watch on the bedside table. 9 am. He got up, and pulled his dressing gown on, and made his way to the large ground floor kitchen. Kreacher was stood on a stool, gently frying some bacon. The old elf clicked his fingers, and the bacon soared gently into a lightly buttered roll. He placed a cup of fresh coffee onto a tray, alongside a red rose in a thin vase, and looked up to Harry.

"Kreacher has made breakfast for Madam Granger," he croaked.

"Thank you, Kreacher. I'll take it up to her."

"Yes, Master."

Harry walked slowly up the stairs to the spare room, and quietly opened the door. He lit some candles with a wave of his hand, and felt his breath catch in his chest has he looked at Hermione. She looked so peaceful, and beautiful. She lay on her side, and the skin on her neck looked so soft and smooth and pale. Harry steadied himself and softly called her name. She half opened her eyes, tensed, then relaxed, and slowly sat up. Harry could not fail to notice that she wasn't wearing a bra, and he could see her nipples protruding through the thin fabric of her tank top. Hermione didn't seem to notice or care as Harry practically goggled at her. Harry set the tray down on the bedside table with shaking hands, and Hermione took a deep swig of the coffee.

"You're too good to me, Harry," said Hermione. "I show up in the middle of the night, and you still bring me breakfast."

"It's not a problem, Mione, I like having you here," replied Harry.

"I wondered if you wanted to spend the day together?" asked Hermione. "I'll pop off home, get changed and come back. I don't feel like talking to Ronald just now."

Harry couldn't believe his ears. Things were working out better that he'd hoped. Hermione finished the coffee and bacon, and stood. Harry's eyes almost popped out of his head as Hermione got out of the bed, just wearing the thin tank top and knickers.

"Come on, Harry. It's not like you haven't seen me in just my underwear before," she laughed.

"Yeah... well..."

"I'll be back soon alright," said Hermione.

She put on the dressing gown, and made her way to the front door, and disapparated with a small pop.

Harry jumped into the shower, and enjoyed for a moment the soothing hot water. He dried himself and carefully selected a smart shirt and trousers, he dressed quickly and made his way down to the sitting room and waited for Hermione. A short while later he heard the front door open and Hermione entered the sitting room. She looked fantastic, as usual, and Harry met her smile with a big grin.

"Fancy doing a bit of shopping, Harry?" she asked. "I need to find a nice dress for my birthday party."

"Yeah, I'd love to," said Harry.

Harry and Hermione walked along Diagon Alley in the late summer sunshine. Hermione had seen a dress she liked in Madam Malkins, but wasn't sure. They walked over to Twilfit and Tattling's and Hermione pulled a very pretty pale blue dress from the racks.

"Oh Harry, this'd be perfect!" exclaimed Hermione.

She looked at the price tag, and immediately put the dress back, and frowned.

"What's wrong with it, Hermione?" asked Harry.

"The price tag. I can't afford it," she said sadly.

Harry picked the dress out, and he looked at the tag. 89 Galleons. Harry paused for a moment, and put the dress in her arms.

"I'll buy it for you. No arguments."

"No, Harry, it's too expensive."

"I said I'd buy it for you. It's not a problem."

Harry led her over to the counter, and encouraged Hermione to pick matching heels, and jewellery. Harry talked her down, and insisted, and she relented in the end. Harry pointed his wand at the till, and a small golden slip issued from it.

_129 Galleons has been transferred from your vault. Thank you for using wand transfer. Gringotts Bank._

"This is too much, Harry. I feel pretty awful about it now," said Hermione as they left the store. "You've just spent what Ron and I pay for two months rent."

"It's not a problem, Hermione," replied Harry. "I've got the money, and not a lot to spend it on. It'll be worth it when you put on that dress and shoes."

In a cafe across the street, a tall red-headed man looked on, as her watched Hermione kiss Harry on the cheek, and squeeze him around the middle. The man exited the cafe and disapparated from a quiet side street.

Harry and Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon browsing in the shops, before Hermione turned to Harry.

"I'd better go, Harry," I think I've let Ron sulk for long enough."

"I'll tell you what; I'll apparate you back, say hi to Ron, and head home."


	3. Chapter 3: Fury and Hatred

Fury and hatred.

Hermione slipped her small hand into his as they turned on the spot and disappeared, they arrived in Hermione's garden as usual. The back door flew open, and Harry briefly saw Ron advancing on him before a large fist cracked into Harry's nose. Little white dots danced in front of his eyes, as Ron rained blows upon his face and body. From each savage blow a sickening crunch came, each one punctuated with Ron's fury.

"_Roll with it. Take each blow. Don't fight back. It'll be worth the pain," _said the little voice in Harry's head.

"Been having fun with _my_ fucking girlfriend?" roared Ron. "I saw you. You fucking traitor!"

Hermione was almost in hysterics as she cast a shield charm, and Ron flew backwards off his feet.

"I'm going to get you out of here, Harry," whispered Hermione.

She gripped his hand, and they disapparated, and arrived on the top step of Grimmauld Place.

Hermione led Harry up the stairs and into the sitting room. She sat him down and examined him. Harry winced as she touched his chest.

"Merlin's beard, Harry. You're a mess," murmured Hermione. "What the _fuck_ was he thinking?"

She drew her wand and moved it slowly over his wounds and muttered under her breath.

"_Yes... this is good..."_ said the voice.

Harry stood, and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He shuddered. He was a mess, his lip was split, nose felt like it was broken, and his eye was swelling as he watched.

"Kreacher?" called Hermione softly.

The elf sidled into the sitting room and bowed.

"Madam Granger," he croaked.

"Do you have any essence of dittany?"

"Yes, Mistress."

The elf clicked his fingers, and a small bottle appeared on the mantelpiece.

"Thank you Kreacher."

The elf bowed again, and slowly left the room.

Hermione picked up the bottle, and worked her magic. She fixed his nose, and wiped away the blood. The dittany helped soothe his wounds, and he felt the skin tighten and heal. Hermione pulled Harry into a tight hug.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," whispered Hermione in his ear. "It's not the first time he's 'defended my honour'. He once punched this guy in the Leaky, just for looking at me."

"Its fine, Hermione. I probably deserved it. What's he going to say when he finds out I bought you an 89 galleon dress?" replied Harry.

"I don't know, Harry. I don't think I'm going to tell him," she said. "I'm going to go home, get some things and come back, and stay here tonight."

"You sure, Hermione? I don't want you going back there if Ron's so angry," said Harry.

"I'm not bothered by Ron. He wouldn't lay a wand on me."

Hermione left the sitting room, and Harry sat back in his armchair, wincing as he did. Was this worth it?

"_Yes..."_

Kreacher brought up a coffee for Harry, and he lit a cigarette. He slowly exhaled and held his ribs as he did. Hermione entered the sitting room a little later, with a weekend bag over her shoulder.

"Has he calmed down?" asked Harry.

"He wasn't there, Harry. He'd just about wrecked the kitchen though."

Harry grimaced and extinguished the cigarette. "I'm sorry Hermione. This is my all my fault. I know Ron gets jealous, and I still spent the whole day with you."

"No, Harry, it's alright. He doesn't own me. I'll give him a few days to cool off, and he'll be fine."

Hermione hugged Harry, and he again breathed in that sweet scent. Harry wanted to grab her then and there, to kiss her, and hold her. He fought the impulse again, and took a deep breath. She was intoxicating but he released her, and held his ribs.

Kreacher opened the sitting room, and bowed.

"Dinner is served in the dining room," he croaked.

The next couple of days flew by, as if in a dream. Harry felt he could barely contain his joy at spending all this time with Hermione. They ate together, laughed and joked. Harry couldn't have been happier. They'd eaten dinner, and Ron's owl flew in from the open window, and Harry untied the note.

_Harry,_

_I'm so sorry about what I did, I completely over-reacted. I don't think I've ever felt so bad. I've been under a lot of pressure at work, and I just snapped. Please accept my apology, and come to Hermione's birthday party, at The Burrow._

_Could you please ask Hermione to come home? I love her so much; I'm completely lost without her._

_Ron_

Harry passed the note over to Hermione, and she sighed.

"I'd better head home, Harry," she said. "I've really enjoyed spending time with you."

"Probably best to, Hermione," replied Harry.

"You will come to my party?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Hermione kissed Harry on the cheek, and hugged him tightly, before she walked down the stairs and disapparated. Harry slumped back into his armchair. It felt like the weight of the world had suddenly dropped onto his shoulders. He thought about the birthday party, and grimaced. He'd make sure neither Ron nor Hermione ever forgot it.

A few days later, Harry apparated into Diagon Alley, in the search for the perfect present for Hermione. He browsed a few of the jewellers without seeing anything, and wandered through the shops. He spotted small jewellers, tucked back from the main street, and headed for it, and almost collided with a tall blonde man.

"Watch where you're going, Potter," spat the young man.

"Out of my way, Malfoy," hissed Harry.

Malfoy pushed roughly past Harry muttering about 'Blood Traitors' under his breath. Harry desperately wanted to curse him, but couldn't in Diagon Alley, and not whilst his back was turned. Harry seethed with anger, before stepping into the small shop.

Harry browsed the shelves but couldn't see anything she'd like, before looking in the glass counter by the till. He spotted something; it glittered and caught his eye. There it was, the perfect present. He shuddered at the price tag, nearly 900 galleons, but it'd be worth it. The assistant wrapped the gift, and Harry slipped it into his jacket pocket.

In the few days before the party, Harry mostly stayed inside Grimmauld Place. He desperately wanted to see Hermione, maybe meet for lunch. He felt almost in pain without her, without that scent, her beauty. He'd sent a bouquet of roses over, and she'd sent him a thank you note, which Harry kept, neatly folded in his inside jacket pocket. Harry sighed again, and settled into his armchair, and grabbed a book from the large case. Harry occasionally enjoyed reading the old spell books, it was good to remember old spells, and Harry had found a chapter on memory charms. The book was old, and bound in faded and cracked black leather, another of the Black family books, and the chapter seemed a lot darker than anything he'd read at Hogwarts. Harry started reading, but was interrupted by the sitting room door creaking open; he marked the page, and looked up.

"Master Harry," muttered Kreacher. "Your dress-robes are ready."

"Thank you, Kreacher, that will be all for today."

Harry climbed the stairs to his bedroom, and checked his pocket watch. The party would be starting soon, so he pulled his clothes off, and put on his dress robes. He selected a dark green tie, and tied it with a wave of his wand. He checked his appearance in the mirror, and allowed himself a thin smile. The bruising on his face had all but disappeared, though he was left with a thin, pale scar around his left eye. Harry thanked Hermione in his mind for her quick wand-work, and use of dittany, it could have looked a lot worse.

Harry carefully placed Hermione's present inside his jacket pocket, and with a final swish of his wand produced a large bloom of beautiful dark red roses. He checked his appearance again, and made his way to the front door, and disapparated.

Harry smiled as he arrived in the untidy front driveway of The Burrow. So many happy memories here, the Weasley's were like family to him. Well, most of them. He could hear music from the back of the house, so made his way round to the large garden. Harry looked through the crowd of people and caught Hermione's eye, and grinned at her. She rushed over, and nearly bowled him over in a huge hug. He gave him a big kiss on the cheek, and Harry lifted her and spun her around.

"I'm so glad you came!" she squealed.

"I'm so glad you wore that dress, Hermione. You look absolutely gorgeous."

He was right, she did look fantastic. The dress hugged her in just the right places, and was just long enough to be sexy, without being slutty. The blue complimented her pale skin, and the heels made her legs look amazing.

"Shh!" giggled Hermione. "Don't let Ron hear you say that!"

"It's fine Hermione, he's distracted at the moment, Lavender is giving him a present," replied Harry. "These are for you, by the way."

He produced the roses from behind his back with a flourish, and Harry just noticed a pale flush on those beautiful cheeks.

"_Yes...YES!" _cried the little voice.

"Thank you, Harry. They're beautiful"

"They're for a beautiful witch," said Harry smoothly.

"_Back it down, back it down, not too much. Smooth, not sleazy," _said the little voice.

"Oh Harry," she said, blushing. "Come on, let's get you a drink."

She ushered him over to the kitchen, where most of the Weasley family were gathered. Mrs Weasley exclaimed, and pulled Harry into a tight hug. Ron gave him a friendly punch, and he shook hands with Mr Weasley and George. He avoided Ginny's gaze, but kissed her on the cheek.

"Now that everyone is here, I think it's time for presents!" called Ron.

He squeezed Hermione around the waist, and produced an oblong parcel, inexpertly wrapped. Hermione gently pulled off the paper to reveal 'Gilderoy Lockheart's Guide to Household Godliness'.

"Thank you, Ron," said Hermione, her voice just cracking slightly. "That's very sweet of you."

More presents were offered, mostly books, a couple of bottles of wine, and a year's subscription to 'Witch Weekly' from Ginny. Hermione took the presents in good grace, thanking each person. Harry removed the small box from his jacket, and presented it to Hermione. She slowly unwrapped it, and popped open the box, and her eyes filled with tears.

"Thank you, Harry," she said thickly. "It's beautiful."

"What is it?" called Ron. "Show us!"

Hermione held up the gift, and the room seemed to fall silent. It was a delicate necklace, with a rose pendant. It glittered, throwing off little pinpricks of light around the room. Hermione beamed up at Harry, he knew at once that she loved it. Ron helped her put it on; it looked perfect on the pale skin of her neck.

They offered Hermione a toast, and raised their glasses to her. Everyone cheered, and made their way back out to the garden. Harry took his drink to a quiet bench in the corner, and sat down. A few minutes later Hermione walked over, and sat next to him, putting her arm around his shoulders. Harry inhaled her delicious scent, and looked at her. The necklace looked really good, and Harry couldn't help but stare at her cleavage. Hermione noticed, and spoke.

"The necklace is too much, Harry. It must have cost you a fortune."

"You're my best friend, Hermione, and I wanted to get you something really special. "

Hermione examined the rose pendant and kissed Harry on the cheek.

"It's diamonds and moonstones on the necklace, and rubies and emeralds on the rose. It's very old, and Goblin made. The second I saw it, I knew I had to get it for you," said Harry.

"You shouldn't have, Harry. You should have got me a cookbook or something, like my Ron," she giggled.

"I just hope you like it."

"I love it. Thank you so much."

Harry's insides squirmed, and he resisted the temptation again to kiss her, to feel his lips on hers, to touch her, to taste her. He gave her hand a squeeze, and she stood up. That dress really did look great.

"_Worth every knut," _he thought.

"I'd better get back to the party," she said.

Hermione walked back across the garden to the waiting arms of Ron. Over her shoulder he shot Harry a dirty look, and took her hand, and led her inside. Harry sighed quietly, and he too rejoined the party, collecting a fresh scotch on the way. The party seemed to be going really well, plenty of drink was flowing, and there were shouts of laughter across the garden. Harry relaxed, and began to enjoy the party. He went inside to use the bathroom, as he was leaving he was roughly shoved against the wall.

"I know what you're doing Harry, and I don't like it." Ron's voice was rough and cold. "I sure as hell didn't go to a strip club by myself, and I certainly didn't chat up some _whore_. I don't know what you were thinking buying that necklace for Hermione, but I can say you're fucking lucky all my family were there."

Harry tensed, and Ron released him, as if he'd received an electric shock.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said simply as he walked away.

Harry exited through the kitchen, and caught sight of Hermione watching people dancing. He casually moved over, and whispered in her ear.

"I'm going to head home now, Hermione."

"Don't go, Harry," said Hermione hoarsely.

Harry studied her beautiful face. Her eyes were rather red, and her skin seemed paler than usual. Had she and Ron had another row?

"No, I'd better. Ron seems to think I'm up to something with you. He doesn't seem to think that we're just friends."

"Alright then Harry," she whispered. "I'll come over to Grimmauld Place for lunch this week."

"I look forward to that," said Harry smiling.

He kissed Hermione on the cheek, and hugged her. That scent! He turned, and walked out of the garden and disapparated back to Grimmauld Place.

**A/N: **I have used the exchange rate of 1 Galleon = £5.


	4. Chapter 4: Charms and Forgiveness

Charms, and Forgiveness.

Harry arrived back at Grimmauld place, and frowned as he felt the oppressive gloom of the dark hallway. He made a mental note to concentrate the next stage of decorating on the entrance and hallway. He trudged up the stairs to the sitting room, and flopped into his armchair. Kreacher arrived a second after he did, bearing a tray with a fresh pot of coffee, Harry gratefully sipped the thick black liquid, and relaxed into the chair. He picked up the old spell book, and found where he'd marked the page.

_Memorye charmes can be moste usefule in befuddlement, concealmente and mystification, a wizarde moste powerfule can place memories untrue, ine the victim's minde._

Harry continued reading, fascinated. He couldn't remember Professor Flitwick teaching about memory charms, but as he glanced at the faded cover of the spell book, he remembered where he was. A dark book, in a former Dark Family's house. Harry marked the page again, and placed the book back in the case, before heading up the stairs to his bedroom. He undressed and slowly climbed into bed, extinguishing the lamp with a wave of his wand. He dozed off, and had just entered a wonderful dream, when a loud crack brought him out of his slumber. He cocked his head and listened carefully, he could hear someone coming up the stairs. Harry tensed, and gripped his wand and slipped out of bed silently, and aimed his wand at the door.

The bedroom door opened with a small click, and Harry readied himself, when Kreacher's deep voice spoke from the gloom.

"Madam Granger, Master Harry," he croaked.

Harry immediately dropped his wand and ran out into the second floor landing, and almost tripped over Hermione who was slumped against the wall, her dress was muddy, and her whole body was shaking as she sobbed. Harry quickly dropped down in front of her, and she turned her head away from him. He softly lifted her to her feet, as she continued to sob and led her into his bedroom, and sat her down on the bed, lighting some candles with a wave of his hand.

Harry pulled Hermione into a warm hug, but she continued to sob into his chest. He gently cupped her chin, and brought her pale face up. It was only then he saw the ugly red mark across the left side of her cheek. Blood pounded in Harry's veins as he quickly stood up.

"I'll kill him. I'll fucking kill him!" he roared.

Hermione stood up, and gently hugged him, and stopped him from leaving the room. Emotion flowed and Harry found his eyes wet, and only then noticed he was holding her tightly and shaking with fury.

"Shh...Shh..." breathed Hermione.

Harry sat down on the bed and wiped his eyes, and looked up at Hermione. Her eyes were red and swollen with tears, but the ugly mark seemed to be slowly fading. His eyes travelled down her body, noticing the mud on the back and right side of her dress.

"What happened, Hermione?" asked Harry quietly.

"Ron was drunk, and he accused me of cheating on him, with you," she whispered hoarsely. "I tried to tell him he was wrong, and he slapped me across the face, and I fell backwards on the grass. I disapparated before he could do anything else, I was so scared, Harry. All his family were asleep, we were supposed to be leaving."

Harry swore under his breath, and tried to compose himself. "He won't come here, Hermione. The front door won't open for him, no matter what he does. You're safe here."

"Can I stay in here, with you?" she asked quietly.

"Of course. I'll see if I can find you something to sleep in."

Harry stood, and opened the chest of drawers, and picked out a baggy white t-shirt.

"Would this be alright?"

"That'd be great, Harry. You're a genuine gentleman you know," she whispered. "Can you help with my dress?"

Hermione took the t-shirt, and turned her back to Harry, and motioned at the zip. Harry slowly undid it, and Hermione slipped the dress to her feet and unclasped her bra. Harry couldn't help but look at her, his eyes moved down with the dress, and found he could see a bruise blooming through the lace of her knickers. Hermione pulled the t-shirt over her head and turned and hugged him again. She climbed into bed, and moved to the other side, and Harry climbed in, and extinguished the candles.

"_No funny business, be cool, be a gentleman," _urged the voice in his head.

Harry gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, and settled down to sleep, lulled by the soft, rhythmic breathing of the beautiful witch next to him. Harry awoke a few hours later and found himself cuddled and pressed up against Hermione's back, with his face nestled in Hermione's sweet smelling hair. He didn't move and was soothed and calmed by her beautiful scent, her soft skin, her warmth and he slowly fell asleep.

Harry woke as the sun began to stream into the large bedroom. He slowly opened his eyes, and found that Hermione was gone. He cursed under his breath, and slid out of bed, grabbing his dressing gown from the back of the door. He walked slowly down to the kitchen, and found Hermione making breakfast, still just wearing the t-shirt. Harry relaxed, and smiled at her. She smiled back, and continued to make the breakfast; Harry sat at the long kitchen table and watched her as she hummed as she cooked. She reached up into one of the cupboards, the t-shirt rode up a little, and Harry found himself staring at her bottom, the shape accentuated by the sexy French knickers she was wearing. Harry took a steadying breath, the urge came over him, to grab her, kiss her, and make love to her, up against the counter. With great mental effort he hauled himself back to reality, as Hermione placed a generous plate of bacon and eggs in front of him.

"Just to say thank you for last night and thank you for breakfast in bed a few weeks ago," she said, smiling.

"You didn't have to make me breakfast, Hermione, Kreacher would have cooked for both of us," said Harry.

"It's fine, Harry. I woke up about half an hour ago; I was cuddled up in your arms, so I thought I'd better get up. You looked so peaceful."

"Hermione, I'm sorry..." began Harry.

"It's fine, Harry, and it was so sweet of you to look after me, to cuddle me when I needed a friend. You're a perfect gentleman, you could have taken advantage, but you didn't. All you wanted was for me to be safe and warm."

Harry's thoughts were racing. _"But I want you so much, Hermione. I'd do anything for you."_

Harry finished his breakfast, and thanked Hermione profusely, and they walked together up to the sitting room, where they relaxed together. Harry couldn't help looking at Hermione's long legs, her small feet, with toenails painted a deep red. Again Harry brought himself back to reality, and Hermione spoke.

"I'm going to need something to wear today," she said thoughtfully

I'll go over to your house and pick you up some things, if you like," replied Harry.

"That'd be great, Harry, I'll have a shower while you're away."

Harry quickly dressed, gave Hermione a quick hug, and disapparated from the front step, arriving in Hermione's back garden. It was still quite early `and the house was dark. Harry cautiously made his way to the back door, and lightly tapped it with his wand. The door opened for him, silently and smoothly, and Harry entered the kitchen. Ron didn't seem to be around, so he quietly made his way up the stairs. He again tapped his wand on the bedroom door, and it creaked open. Ron was sprawled out on the bed, naked. Harry shuddered and pointed his wand at him.

"_Muffliato!"_

Harry opened the small wardrobe, and selected a dress for Hermione, rummaged through the drawers and picked out a matching set of underwear, grabbed a pair of heels, and silently made his way out of the house. He arrived on the top step of Grimmauld Place, and entered the cool dark hallway, calling Hermione's name. She appeared at the top of the stairs, just wearing a towel and beamed at Harry. He made his way up the stairs and handed the neatly folded clothes to Hermione, and she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. She looked through the clothes, and giggled.

"A dress and sexy underwear? What are you trying to tell me, Harry Potter?"

Harry mumbled something about 'the first thing I found' and Hermione laughed.

"I'm joking, Harry!"

Hermione turned, and entered the bedroom to get changed, and Harry took a shower. He quickly sluiced himself down, and wrapped the towel around his waist, and walked into the bedroom. Hermione was just pulling the dress on, and asked Harry to help with the zip again. He moved over to her and was almost overcome with desire, he wanted her to turn around, drop the dress, to kiss him, to make love but he resisted again. It seemed to be getting harder to resist, the little voice was almost continuously screaming instructions at him.

They went downstairs to the sitting room together and sat with one another on the large sofa, Hermione with her feet up, over Harry's legs. He turned is head, and looked at her beautiful face.

"Ron can never find out that we slept in the same bed, Hermione," said Harry slowly.

"No, Harry, I won't breathe a word," she said. "I don't regret it, not for a second. Like I said, I needed a friend, and you were there for me."

"It was nice though," said Harry

Hermione smiled at him and he squeezed her hand.

A few days passed, and Harry and Hermione had not left Grimmauld Place. They spent the time reading, eating and chatting and laughing. Harry was so happy; he enjoyed Hermione's company so much. There was no mention of the intimacy they'd had, but he was satisfied. He shivered slightly as he recalled her soft skin, her scent. He was in the middle of a day-dream about their liaison, when Hermione entered the sitting room.

"Harry..." she called softly. "I'm going to head home, and try and work things out with Ron."

Harry turned to her. "If you're sure, Hermione," he said calmly. "If you need me, you know where I am."

Hermione smiled, and left the sitting room and disapparated from the front step. As soon as he heard the front door click shut, rage and anger and frustration coursed through him, with a huge roar he stood and smashed the small side table into the dresser, upended the sofa, threw a chair across the room and kicked over the coffee table before slumping down into the wreckage, his shoulders shaking.

"_She's going to take him back."_

"_He hit her, and she's going to take him back."_

"_I don't know what to do."_

"_I need her."_

"_I love her."_


	5. Chapter 5: Vengeance and Victory

Vengeance , and Victory.

Harry spent the next few weeks alone in Grimmauld Place. He occasionally met Hermione for lunch, those times he felt so happy and relaxed, but as soon as she left, the depression settled on him, like a huge weight on his shoulders. Ron and Hermione had made up, and this was killing him, but she seemed happy. They would row occasionally, and Hermione would tell him, his sprits would soar. The next time they'd meet, she'd tell him they were all good again, and he felt like he wanted to burst into tears.

"_She's slipping away from you, Harry," _chided the little voice. "_You need to do something. Something permanent. You can do this."_

"I don't know what to do," he said aloud.

"_It's all there you know. You do know what to do. Think!"_

Harry picked out the old spell book from the case again, and settled at his writing desk. He found his page, and read on. He re-read the pages on memory charms, and then slammed the book shut in disgust. This was old, dark magic.

"_How far would you go, Harry?" _urged the little voice. _"How far would you go for love?"_

Harry leaned back in his chair. He'd go to the ends of the earth for Hermione. He would do _anything._ Dark magic? Harry shuddered and shook his head. No. He would continue to be a friend to Hermione, to be there for her. She would realise soon enough.

A few months passed, and Harry had all but forgotten about the thoughts he'd had. He continued to meet Hermione for lunch, give her flowers, but still experiencing the same cycle of incredible highs, and crushing lows. He would go home to Grimmauld Place, and sink into depression, so much so that Kreacher had taken to making Calming Draughts for him. He was sinking into himself.

The following week, he met her for lunch again, deciding after many, many days of deliberation he would tell her how he felt for her. They'd been friends for so long, he knew she would understand. Ron would never understand. They met in Diagon Alley in one of the many cafes, he was so pleased to see her, she was looking hauntingly beautiful, and Harry's breath caught in his chest as she walked towards him.

"Hey, Harry!" she called.

Harry grinned, and produced a bouquet of roses for her. She accepted them, and planted a big kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you, Harry. You know I love these."

"I know," replied Harry. "How's your week been?"

Hermione paused, and flushed a little. "I think Ron is going to propose soon. Well... he said he had something to talk about later. "

Harry's face fell, and he could feel the emotion welling up inside him.

"That's great, Hermione," he said, in that awful hearty voice. "I'm so happy for you."

Hermione cocked her head, and looked at him carefully. "Really?"

"I... I..."

"_Tell her now!" _cried the little voice. _"You're going to lose her!"_

Harry's voice cracked. "I just want you to be happy, Mione."

He could feel his eyes welling up, and he looked away from her. He beautiful concerned face looked worried, and she spoke softly.

"I'll always be here for you, Harry. Even if I do get married, it won't change anything between us. You're my best friend, Harry."

Harry looked up, and smiled at her.

"I'll always be here for you."

Their food arrived a little after, and Hermione was telling Harry about her week.

"We were in Flourish and Blotts yesterday, and I bumped into Malfoy."

"Really?"

"Yeah, Ron was furious. Malfoy called me a mudblood, and called Ron a blood traitor. I thought he was going to kill him, but I held him back, and Malfoy just sort of swaggered off."

"_This is it!" _screamed the little voice.

Harry smiled, and nodded.

"What are you up to tonight?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm going to some work party. I don't really want to go, and Ron's not coming either, so Ginny is coming with me. I'm not going to stay long, but I know how much Ginny loves those sorts of things," she said.

Harry and Hermione finished their lunch, and they said their goodbyes. Harry felt the crushing weight settle on him again, and he disapparated back to Grimmauld Place. Plans were already forming in his mind.

He raced up the stairs to the sitting room, and quickly grabbed the spell book, and found the page on the memory charms. He read, and re-read; ideas, thoughts and feelings were swarming and bubbling around in his head.

He had tried getting drunk. He tried exposing Ron as a cheat. He bought her expensive presents. Ron hit her, and it still didn't work. He'd been the best a friend could be, and that didn't work. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Kreacher came into the sitting room, and served Harry coffee and sandwiches. He noticed the scraps of parchment and books, and the invisibility cloak.

"Is the Master going out tonight, Kreacher wonders," croaked the old elf.

Harry turned and looked at the elf, and smiled. "Yes, Kreacher, I am going out tonight. You are forbidden to mention this to anyone. If you are ever asked, I did not leave this house."

"Yes Master. The Masters word is a House-Elf's highest bidding."

Harry quickly ate the sandwiches and slugged back the coffee. He glanced out of the window; he'd been working for hours without realising, and noted it was starting to get dark. He checked his pocket watch; Hermione should be heading out soon. Harry picked up his travelling cloak from the hallway, pulled on his leather gloves and disapparated from the top step. The little voice in his head was now screaming instructions.

"_Go to Ron, imperious him, use him to kill Draco Malfoy, and plant a false memory in Ron's mind. He will be sent to Azkaban, and she will be free, free for you," _howled the voice.

Harry arrived with a small pop, in Hermione's garden. He tightened his grip on his wand. This was it. The plan seemed so easy. The little voice was screaming again.

"_Do it!" _shrieked the voice. _"Do it now!"_

Harry took a steadying breath, and slowly and silently moved to the back door. He gently tapped the door with his wand, which opened with a small click. He walked quietly into the dark kitchen, into silence. Harry took what seemed like his first breath, and entered the lounge. The lamps were lit, but the room was empty. Harry flicked his wand.

"_Homenum Revelio!"_

Harry waited for a second, nothing was revealed. The house was empty. The little voice screamed at him, but Harry ignored it, as he looked at the mantelpiece. There was a photograph of him and Ron, arm in arm on the Quiddich pitch. Another picture, on the wall, of himself, Ron and Hermione in their sixth year at Hogwarts. Hermione and Ron outside their first house. Ron showing off his new broomstick to Harry.

A sudden rush of emotion hit Harry, as if swamped by an ocean wave. Harry choked, and slumped to his knees, his whole body shaking as he sobbed. Time seemed to stand still for him; he did not hear the back door open. Hermione walked cautiously into the lounge with her wand out, and immediately saw Harry, on his knees, shaking. Harry finally heard her and turned and looked up at her beautiful face.

"Hermione..." he croaked

"Oh Harry!" said Hermione, as she dropped down beside him

"I'm the worst kind of... bastard... you could ever imagine..."

Hermione wrapped her arms around his shoulders and spoke to him in a low, soothing voice. She helped him up onto the sofa, where Harry continued to shake with emotion. Harry had his head resting in the crook of her neck, and her beautiful scent seemed to bring him back. He slowly sat up, Hermione took his hand. A bolt of panic shot through Harry.

"Where's Ron?" he asked.

"He's at The Burrow," said Hermione soothingly. Her voice cracked slightly. "We broke up this evening, and he's gone back."

"Oh, Hermione. I'm sorry," whispered Harry. He expected the little voice to start screaming at him again, but there was only silence.

"It's ok..." began Hermione, but she too began to sob gently.

Harry pulled her towards him, and he held her and after a few moments, she looked up at him. Harry stared into those deep chocolate eyes, and they moved slowly together, their lips met, and they kissed, slowly and gently. Harry softly stroked her long, soft hair as their tongues met. They pulled apart, and Harry spoke.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," said Harry slowly. "I've wanted to kiss you, for the longest time. I've wanted to tell you how I felt for years now, but until recently you seemed so happy with Ron. You drive me wild, every time I see you. I wanted to kiss you, to hold you in my arms, to make love to you."

"Harry, I know," she replied. "I see it every time we meet. That time when I stayed at your house, and I woke up in your arms, I felt so safe and happy and warm. I wanted to stay with you."

Harry composed himself, and stood up.

"I'd better go Hermione. I came here tonight with the worst intentions, but I couldn't go through with it. I wanted you so much, and I would have done terrible things. I would go to the ends of the earth for you; I would have used Dark Magic for you. I would have used the unforgivable curses for you.

Hermione looked at Harry, visibly shocked.

"What do you mean, Harry?" she asked quietly.

Harry broke down again, and Hermione pulled him close to her.

"I couldn't go through with it, Mione, I just couldn't do it," he choked. "I think I should just go."

"Harry. I'm coming with you."

Hermione quickly went upstairs, and reappeared with a weekend bag over her shoulder. She led Harry out to the garden by his hand, and disapparated to the top step of Grimmauld Place. Harry tapped his wand on the front door, and they headed up to the sitting room. She sat at his desk, and cast her eyes over the spell book, and the various scraps of parchment littering the desk.

"You were going to do this, for me?" she asked quietly.

Harry hung his head in shame. "Yes," he whispered.

"This is old, dark magic Harry. "

"I'm so ashamed, Hermione. Can you forgive me?"

"You didn't go through with it, Harry. This tells me that these plans are only in your head. You couldn't have gone through with them. Your heart is too pure. Just in case though..." Hermione flicked her wand at the parchments flew into the fireplace, and began to burn fiercely.

Harry sagged into the sofa, and Hermione sat close to him, and rested her head on his shoulder. She stroked his face and Harry felt the weight and gloom of the last few months slowly evaporating away.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" he asked quietly.

"Of course I will, Harry," she replied. "You need a friend now, and I'm here for you."

They sat together on the sofa for another hour or so, Kreacher served tea and little sandwiches, and Harry felt better and better as the night wore on. They chatted quietly, and watched the fire burn down, all the time cuddled together. Harry felt so peaceful with Hermione in his arms. Everything felt right.

A little later Hermione and Harry made their way up to the bedroom, Harry quickly undressed, and climbed into bed. He couldn't help but watch Hermione as she undressed, taking a thin tank top from her weekend bag. Her pale, creamy skin was to Harry, perfection itself. Harry again expected the little voice to be urging instructions to him, but again, just silence. That burning, powerful, almost forceful desire had evaporated, and it felt different. Hermione climbed into bed, Harry couldn't help but stare a little, the outline of her breasts, the shape of her long legs, the way her hair fell over her face. Hermione half laid back, propped up by the pillows, and invited Harry to cuddle up alongside her. He did, placing the side of his head on her chest, and put his arm gently across the small mound of her belly. He let out a long sigh as Hermione ran her fingers gently through his hair, as he drifted off to sleep.

He awoke after a long, peaceful and dreamless sleep, pressed up against Hermione's back, with his arm around, gently cupping her. Harry felt so warm and comfortable, and did not move. His head was nestled in her long hair, her soft breath, her scent, her beauty; Harry felt the emotion almost overwhelming.

How far would he go for love?

He would do_ anything_ for her.


	6. Chapter 6: Epilogue

Epilogue

_Six months later._

Harry lounged comfortably in his new favourite armchair. He glanced around the sitting room, and grinned. The musty old furniture had been taken away, replaced by chic and modern black leather couches, the dark old dresser and other old furnishings had been sold to an extremely enthusiastic wizarding antiques dealer. It seemed that the Black family had spared no expense furnishing Grimmauld Place, and Harry received a substantial amount for the old things. They had been replaced with modern light coloured woods, the walls repapered and tall, elegant vases that looked magnificent with large blooms of roses. None of the redecoration would have been possible without Hermione, she had insisted on putting the old spell books, ornaments and trinkets into storage in the large cellar, and the sitting room was so much improved for it.

Harry sat up as he heard the front door click, and he stood up, beaming. He heard Hermione climb the stairs, and she entered the sitting room, closely followed by Kreacher, bearing fresh coffee and little sandwiches.

"Hey you!" she called.

Harry felt a now familiar rush of emotion towards her, and almost bowled her over in a huge hug. He kissed her, and squeezed her.

"I missed you, sweetie," he whispered.

"Ooh, Harry," said Hermione, smiling. "I've only been gone a few hours! At least one of us has to go to work!"

"You know you don't have to work, Hermione," said Harry. He felt so happy, and Hermione did know that she needn't work, but she enjoyed it.

They sat together on the sofa, and drank the afternoon coffee, and Hermione turned to him.

"I saw Ron today," she said quietly.

"What... really?" said Harry, choking on his coffee.

"Well... he was walking straight towards me in the atrium, but he just looked right through me, like I wasn't there."

Harry grimaced. He hadn't spoken to Ron since Hermione's birthday party, almost eleven months ago, and didn't intend to. Mrs Weasley had been as sweet to Harry as ever, and the entire Weasley family had accepted Harry and Hermione's relationship, Bill and Fleur had even remarked about how they should have always been together. Ron had moved out of The Burrow months ago, and found himself a flat in Central London, and was often seen in the pages of 'Witch Weekly', with a varying number of attractive and desirable witches on his arm. Harry sighed, he knew, from speaking to George, that Ron was battling demons of his own, with drink and drugs. Harry pulled Hermione gently closer to him, and kissed her softly on the pale skin of her neck. Harry would never forgive Ron for hitting Hermione, never. Ron had never offered any sort of explanation, or expressed any remorse. The Weasley family did not know, Hermione had begged Harry to keep her secret, she feared Ron would be completely ostracised from the wizarding community. Even as a victim, she still showed compassion, and Harry respected her wishes.

Hermione did not yet live with Harry, but she did spend an increasingly large amount of time there, this suited Harry perfectly, he loved having her in his house, and felt lost without her there. He wanted her to live there permanently, soon he was hoping to propose, and ask her to live with him. He had, secretly hidden in his bedside table drawer, his mother's engagement ring, which had been found in a large trunk in his vault at Gringots.

They finished the afternoon coffee, and Hermione cuddled closer into Harry. He gently kissed the top of her head, and smiled to himself. Six short months, and so many happy memories already. The first time they made love, three months ago, Harry felt such euphoria of emotion, love and tenderness he'd barely experienced before. He shivered slightly as he recalled that time, so much passion, yet so gentle and loving. Not long after that Harry had noticed her toothbrush in his bathroom, and as the weeks went by he noticed the feminine touches around the house.

Harry cuddled Hermione closer to him, and she turned and looked at him.

"I love you so much," he said.

"I love you too," she whispered, and softly kissed him on the lips.

The End


End file.
